The Writer and The Café

Chapter Three

Arthur quickly tended to his customers wanting to get back to Alfred and get some answers about Mr. Smith. As soon as he was done he turned to the table the American had been at just moments before and found that he was gone. His shoulders relaxed and he let out a deep breath, he believed that Alfred must have just been playing a game with him, being a tease, seeing how excited he was about the book just gave him a opportunity to be entertained.

That was all Arthur could think about until closing time, but when it came time to leave he couldn't find his cat Biscuit. He called for her and searched every nook and cranny still unable to locate her. He then remembered that Alfred had let her in, she might have followed him out. Arthur knew there was no way of her coming back, she probably likes Alfred more and will stay with him. Everyone and everything always leaves him in the end, Arthur hated it so much.

"Damn it," he muttered as he felt the tears slide down his warm cheeks. He wiped them away as he closed the door behind him and began to walk back to his apartment, on his way back there was a growl of thunder through the sky and it began to pour down rain. Arthur gritted his teeth in anger and ran to his apartment, one thing after another, nothing was on his side anymore. He was thankful for the rain, at least it could hide the tears that were cascading down his face. He made it to the apartment and began to walk up the stairs, he tried to wipe the rain off of his face but he continued to feel his tears fall. As he got to his apartment and walked to front of his door ready to take a relaxing shower, but as he began to unlock it his neighbors door slammed open and he heard, "Sweetheart I know you want to leave but if I lose you Arthur will kill me!"

Turning towards the open door with wide eyes he saw Alfred step out following his cat Biscuit. Alfred looked up and found Arthur staring at him in shock, with tears falling down his cheeks. "Artie? Are you okay? You're completely drenched dude. What's wrong? Why are you crying?" He asked as he walked over to the Brit and began to wipe away his tears.

Arthur smacked his hands away angrily and picked his cat up from the ground and walked into his apartment, slamming and locking the door behind him. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down and sat in front of the door, hugging his cat. She meowed in his arms and pawed at his cheek, seeing the tears that continued to fall.

He didn't understand what was happening, too many thing were going on and he felt too overwhelmed. "Artie," he mumbled to himself. He couldn't believe the damn American called him that! Letting go of Biscuit he jumped up, unlocked his door and running out to confront Alfred. But instead of knocking loudly on his neighbors door, he accidentally slammed his own door into Alfred's face.

Alfred had been standing outside Arthur's door unsure of what to do about the situation he was in. He didn't want the Brit to be angry with him, he wasn't one hundred percent sure why either, but he wanted to make sure that Arthur was okay. He was in shock about a lot of things at the moment and was unsure of what to do, first he finds out that Arthur is his neighbor, then he finds the man soaking wet from the rain, finally he sees that Arthur was crying. Seeing him crying, see in the pain across his face sent a knife through his heart.

Before he could figure out what he was going to do he found Arthur's door being slammed into his face. He gripped his face as he felt tears form in the corners of his eyes and fell to the ground. "Alfred," Arthur choked out in both shock and worry as he knelt on the ground and cupped Alfred's cheek. He shook his head at Arthur, not wanting the Brit to feel guilty but then he felt the blood beginning to run down his face. "Shit," he grumbled as he pulled his shirt up to his nose to stop the blood.

"Alfred, I'm so sorry," Arthur mumbled with wide, guilt filled eyes. Alfred sat there for a moment before standing up and grabbing Arthur's hand. He pulled the Brit off of the ground and pulled him into the open apartment and closed the door behind him. "I'm going to barrow your bathroom Artie," he said as he headed off then the bathroom, he knew where it was due to all of the apartments being built the same.

He went into the bathroom and washed the blood from his face and hands as he stood over the sink. Alfred took a deep breath to calm himself down, and after a moment he grabbed a few pieces of toilet paper and placed them in his nose. He walked back out and found that Arthur was pacing in his living room muttering to himself nervously. He leaned against the wall and watched the man with a small smile on his face. It was weird to see that someone who barely knew him cared so much but that's when it hit Alfred, he felt the same way, he cared too much for some guy he didn't know.

"Hey Artie," Alfred called from the hallway he was standing in. Arthur had stopped pacing and looked back at Alfred with wide eyes before he busted out laughing. He was laughing from both the rolls of tissue in Alfred's nose and the way his voice sounded because of it. The American stayed silent as he watched Arthur laugh, he liked seeing tears of laughter rather than the tears of anger and pain he saw before.

He walked over to Arthur and wiped away his tears before poking him between his brows again. Alfred couldn't help but smile as he saw the Brit pout angrily at his actions. Arthur smacked his hand away again and asked angrily, "Why do you keep doing that you bloody wanker?"

"Cause you're cute when you're angry," Alfred said with a warm smile but froze after the words left his mouth. He looked at the door and turned towards it and mumbled, "N-Never mind, forget I said anything." The American left Arthur's apartment, closing the door behind him leaving the Brit to his thoughts.

Arthur sat down on his couch and buried his face into his hands, he could feel the heat from his face warming his cold skin. He was unsure that he heard Alfred correctly, he wanted to deny it, but he knew that he couldn't. He couldn't lie to himself, especially when his heart was beating a mile a minute.